


I Was A Collegiate Werewolf

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Arguing, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Ghosts, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insults, Interspecies Relationship(s), It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Making Out, Making Up, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, Sex, Sexual Content, Shapeshifting, Spells & Enchantments, Threats of Violence, Vampires, Weird Plot Shit, Weirdness, Werewolves, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: In a world where supernatural creatures exist, Richie Sambora is a werewolf, and slowly integrates himself into a band of very different friends.
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	I Was A Collegiate Werewolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the mess that is this story.

**I had a teen-land mind  
I had to blow my top  
And under teen full moon  
No one could make me stop  
No one could make me stop**

This shouldn't have been so difficult. 

But life was difficult, and college was going to be difficult, and the whole world was stopped, waiting for the moment that he stepped out to behold himself and put to rest all of those stupid looks, but no matter how long he sat there, like a statue who was stuck in perpetual immobility, Richie couldn't force himself to move. 

Which was ridiculous because he was probably ruining everybody's day, but the point still stood. 

Richie was nervous, and ridden with anxiety, and maybe a little scared.

But it's not like anybody could notice. 

"Oh, honey. It'll all be okay." Mrs. Sambora said for what must have been the hundredth time. 

Well, nobody except his mother. 

Richie smiled weakly at her, trying to assuage her fears at least somewhat. "I know, mom." He reassured her. 

Mrs. Sambora was the classical worrywart, a protective mother with a mind of her own. She feared discrimination for old cliches, and worried constantly that her son would be subjected to cruel teasing at the hands of the other creatures who had somehow found their way.

Richie wasn't particularly worried about that because he knew that werewolves were much more respected than they were so many years ago, he was more or less concerned about failing. Oh, that would be disastrous. 

"You know, son." Mr. Sambora said, his tone nonchalant, but eyes purposeful. "The best way to get started is to dive in. That's how I did it, anyways." There was a wistful undercurrent to his words, as if the memories of his old college days were becoming too much. 

"Is it?" Richie said. 

His father nodded, but then he smiled and reached back so he could pat Richie's leg to comfort him. "But your mother, on the other hand..." He trailed off with a mischievous glint to his eyes. 

"Oh, stop." Mrs. Sambora said, but she was laughing as she pulled her son into a hug. "Listen, don't pay attention to my fears. I'll just ruin this experience for you." She sighed. "I don't want you to fear them like I do, honey. It's unfair because I'm sure they are nice and will not hold their grudges but- just be careful." 

Richie nodded. "I will, mom." He kissed her cheek and then walked around the car so he could give his father a hug. 

Truth be told, he was going to miss his parents, which was stupid and childish, but it wasn't wrong. Richie relished in the close contact for a few moments more before he took a deep breathe, as if to prepare himself for what was to come, got out of the car and watched as his mother got back inside the car. 

"I'll miss you both!" He yelled out. 

The sentiments were returned quickly. 

"You better call me, Richard!" His mother yelled out as the car pulled away from the curb, her voice ringing out through the air, a last farewell. 

Richie raised his hand to wave goodbye until the car was gone, a mere dot in the distance. 

And then he lowered it. 

His bags were right beside him, a duffel bag and a suitcase that held all of his worldly belongings. It felt oddly final, though Richie knew his parents would be right there if he should just say the word. 

But he wanted to do this, to prove himself worthy, and with that thought, Richie bent down and grabbed the bags, turning to face the campus with more trepidation than should be strictly necessary for such an occasion. 

It was just college, after all. 

But what would come out of this? Richie wanted to pass. He wanted to make it clear that he was his own person and not just a carbon copy of his parents, but what happened if he didn't? I

It was cold and windy, with storm clouds beginning to gather from above. Richie didn't want to get caught in the rain and so he hurried to get inside. The pavement was clear of anybody else, save for a small scattering of creatures that were also trying to find cover. Richie felt strangely alone, but paid no mind to it. Dwelling would do no good except make this experience so much worse. 

The campus was nice, clean. There were lots of tall, imposing trees that had been planted in random rows across the fields of grass. The college itself was older than Richie could remember, generations of generations that had been passed down to protect it, a large, old, yet beautiful building that stood tall in spite of the passing years. 

Richie stepped inside and marveled at the large expanse of space, his excitement rising up, like lava bubbling inside of a volcano. The receptionist was a girl around his age with long brown hair who seemed way too eager for her job, considering that she was just helping people get signed in. 

"Hi!" The girl, whose nametag informed Richie that her name was, strangely enough, Dorothea. 

What an odd name. 

Richie smiled and accepted her outstretched hand, shaking it with as much equal fervor as he could risk without breaking her wrist. One of the downsides of being a Were was that Richie had to be careful with everybody who didn't share the condition, because their bones were much more fragile, and Weres, well, had an issue with strength. "Hey, yourself." He greeted. 

Dorothea pulled out a clipboard from what seemed to be out of nowhere, which either meant that she was a Witch or just had a talent for such things. "My name's Dorothea, but you can call me Dot. I'm the student receptionist here." She said. "You must be the new Were?" 

"Yes." Richie confirmed with a nod. "Richie Sambora." He added, just in case. He set the bags down on the ground and stepped forward, accepting the offered pen so that he could sign himself in. Dorothea waited without a word until he was done, taking the pen and paper back and setting it somewhere unseen. 

As she searched for something near the computer, Dorothea seemed to battle internally with herself. 

Richie was good at reading people, more than he liked to be, actually, so he could tell what was happening to the girl just a few feet away. It wasn't exactly how he wanted to start the year off, but it wasn't like curiosity could be helped. "You want to ask me something, don't you?" 

Dorothea looked up, startled, but the frightened look on her face disappeared when Richie gave his infamous grin and leaned against the desk. "I'm not mad." He said. It wasn't a lie, because he could understand, in a weird way. Richie got curious about how other creatures went about their day, how they handled themselves, their struggles and fears and the potential for day-to-day conflict and death.

She gave a small smile. "It's just that- I dunno how you'll feel about your assigned roommate." Dorothea said, pulling out a pamphlet and a piece of paper with a series of handwritten words that had been written on it in scratchy handwriting. 

"Who? A Vamp?" Richie joked, knowing full and all that Vampires and Weres weren't allowed to be roommates. It was an old precaution, because they were notorious enemies, though it was more a cliche than anything. 

Dorothea laughed. "No, no." She shook her head as she say back down on the squeaky chair that had been vacated a few moments previously. "A Ghost, actually." 

Richie was surprised at that, but not shocked. Ghosts were becoming more and more integrated into society after years of being notorious outcasts, though that was everybody's faults. "Really?" He said, glancing down at the pamphlet. It was a introductory manual, and effectively useless. 

"Yup." Dorothea said, drawing the word out purposefully. "And a grumpy one, at that." She said, and there was a small note of demented glee in her voice that Richie tried to ignore for everybody's sake. 

"Well, that's not a big problem." Richie said, trying to downplay his worry that their personalities would clash. He was, by nature, friendly and outgoing, and to be paired with somebody who was the exact opposite of that probably wouldn't mix well. 

But, maybe, it could work. 

He finished signing in and took the stairs to his assigned room, lingering just a little to observe the photos that lined the walls. People from times long past stared at each and every passing student, smiling or frowning, united in their own common task of wanting to graduate and prove themselves. 

_You'll be fine,_ a voice that sounded strangely like his mother's said. 

And Richie almost believed it. 

At least until he opened the door to his room, and came face-to-face with an angry, barely visible Ghost, who scowled at the sight of Richie and promptly stated- "You're late." 


End file.
